


Random Writing Event 1

by ArtisticVicu



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Original Work, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Archaeology, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Mob, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Original Character(s), Poetry, Post-Apocalypse, hero vs villain, multiple stories, random drabble, venting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-10
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:54:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 12,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23414869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArtisticVicu/pseuds/ArtisticVicu
Summary: Each chapter is a different story. Chapters 16 and 17 go together.Every item title is the given prompt. Some are song, some are word or quote.





	1. Free Fall

As the world dissolved around the group as the portal came down around them to take the ground away from beneath their feet, he closed his eyes. The inverting left him reeling and, for the briefest of moments, panic rushed through him. Not from his rapid decent possibly ending in a shattering smack against the ground several hundred feet now above his head, but from the oncoming battle he was dropping into. He snapped his eyes open and his companion that could fly came to intercept him as he remembered that he was not alone in this; the 16 others around him were there to support him and just as ready for this fight as he was.


	2. Castle by Hasley

She let out a breath, watching as is solidified in the cold air before dissipating. The snow had long since stopped falling, gray from the ash of the battle and now muddy and red where the worst of the fighting at been. The air was stale, stiff. There was no breeze to bring life back to the land. She shifted her weight, looking back at the castle behind her.

The massive stone structure loomed over the battlefield, looking just as tired and worn as she did. Several of the towers had collapsed and a good number of the walls had been taken out. Just as there was no sign of a breeze, there was no sign of life.

She was alone.

In a sudden fit of frustration and disgust, she yanked the diadem off her head and tossed it to the ground as if it burned. What was the point? There was no one left. They had lost and so many had lost their lives because of her and her companions’ stupidity.

She turned back to the castle, heart heavy but expression determined. She made her way back into the castle walls as she started sending her magic back into the walls and grounds. The castle took the gift and started to repair itself as the lands came up and swallowed the dead, creating a burial ground that would be forgotten over time.

As she stood in the center of the courtyard, eyes closed, she gave up her life in favor of masking what had truly occurred. She prayed that her sacrifice and those that had died before her would not have been in vain and that the truth would be erased from history.

A tear streaked down her cheek as she crumbled to the ground.


	3. Describe something unseen, or invisible. Something we as humans cannot physically see, but may believe in.

This isn’t something we can see, something we can truly track. We perceive it, we use it, but that doesn’t mean that it actually exists. How can it exist when we can’t validate its existence? There are too many people that perceive it differently. When one leaves the planet’s surface, it behaves differently between those on the planet and those off world. When those that have left come back, it has changed. Those on the planet may not even exist anymore it has changed so drastically.

Being able to manipulate time for travel may not ever be within our grasp.


	4. “MY NAME IS OZYMANDIAS, KING OF KINGS. LOOK ON MY WORKS, YE MIGHTY, AND DESPAIR.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Credit for prompt: “Ozymandias” by Percy B. Shelley

She stared at the letter in hand in disbelief. Well, more the first line written on the parchment than the letter itself. She passed the letter on to the other two as she turned her gaze to the messenger in disbelief. The one beside her took the letter. “Is this for real? Are they serious?”

The messenger nodded. “Yes, your Highness. I brought it from his hand here personally.”

Laughter bubbled out of her as she looked at the other two, her eyes still wide with mirth. “They can’t be serious.” She fought her laughter though the grin settled into place. “Ancient ones, they cannot be serious.”

“Seems legit,” the one beside her commented, passing the letter to the man across from her. “And very serious.”

She shook her head, laughter still playing in her chest. “This is just ridiculous.” The one beside her smirked in agreement. She looked to the man holding the letter, asking, “Are they threatening one of us or the kingdom, then?”

He shook his head. “Hard to tell. It could be one of us or the kingdom itself.”

“It would be very foolish to challenge the kingdom,” they commented.

She snorted. “That or arrogance.” She frowned, the humor in the situation dissipating. “Is there any immediate threat to the kingdom?”

He shook his head as he passed the letter back to the one between them. They took the letter, looking it over again. “Not that I can tell,” he supplied. He looked to the messenger. “Do you know if your supposed King of Kings is coming to take the kingdom or challenge us?”

The messenger shook their head. “I do not know, Sire. If I may extrapolate…” The one in the middle gestured to go ahead. “Your Highnesses, my King has – as of late – challenged rulers. If it is not successful, he destroys the lands. I do not think you will be the exception to that rule. He has become arrogant,” they nodded towards her, “as your Highness had speculated earlier.”

She looked to the one across from her, all three of them frowning. He didn’t miss her look but he didn’t comment on it as he spoke to the messenger again. “You have quite the tongue for a messenger. You are educated?”

“Yes, Sire.” The messenger shifted their weight, a sign of unease. “I…am of a higher class originally.”

She stood up, her frown deepening. “Were you of noble blood before he took your kingdom?”

The messenger let their head drop, hands clasped before them. “I am sorry, your Highness. It is forbidden to talk about the days before his rule.”

“That would be a yes,” the one between them ground out. She turned to them, placing a hand on their arm while looking to the man across from her. “Eros, we have to defeat him.”

“I know, Elpis,” he soothed. He looked to the one between them, her eyes following. “Eir?”

“Might as well show him why we see this as a joke.”


	5. “The sword of Damocles hangs above.”

The dust billowed about them as the wall came down, opening a secret passage. She lowered her hand, the rest of her team coughing behind her. Her headlamp illuminated the passage now exposed, revealing a path that hadn’t been touched since the temple had been abandoned.

“Rachel, wait.” She stilled, her foot in the entryway. The man that had called out hurried to her side, a hand latching onto her arm. “Let’s send the drone in first.”

She shook her head. “We know this part of the temple is stable. There’s no need, Harry.” She gently slipped from his grasp and stepped fully into the passageway. “Besides, a drone won’t trip any of the traps anyways.”

She pulled at her collar and a little scaly head popped out. She smiled down at the little dragon, asking, “Fos, can you light the way?”

The little dragon chirped and pulled itself out of her jacket. Fluttering ahead on soft wings, the little dragon began to give off a soft glow that illuminated quite a bit of the hallway without blinding her and her team. She followed after, as did Harry. Her dad and father made it into the passage before the way in was sealed abruptly, cutting them off from the rest of their team. Rachel glanced back but kept moving. She had what she needed. They’d find a way out later.

Harry hurried to follow as she trekked after the little dragon bobbing ahead. “Rachel, what now? Our only exit is now blocked.”

She grinned at him. “No it’s not.”

There was a chirp and Rachel turned her gaze ahead once more. The little dragon had stopped at what appeared to be the end of the passageway and Rachel hurried to come up to the dragon’s side. She reached out, stroking a careful finger under its jaw. “What’s wrong, Fos?”

The critter flew onward and Harry gasped. Rachel grinned.

Before them was a massive room, much larger than any they had seen previously in the temple. The little dragon flew up to the top of the dome and shone brightly, the curve of the roof reflecting the light incredibly well to not only illuminate the glyphs and written language clearly, but illuminated the room itself to the point that Rachel turned her headlamp off.

“Unbelievable,” her dad breathed. Rachel walked straight across, her gaze skyward. Joy and pride filled her expression. “The sword of Damocles hangs above,” she quoted, pulling out and opening an old, leather journal. The same glyph on the page and the notes scribbled on the page were the same forgotten language that was all throughout the temple. She grinned at the others. “We’re almost there.”


	6. Image Prompt 1

The sound of marching feet was deafening. Armor plating clattered against itself as the invading army made its way towards the heart of the city, the heart of the kingdom. If any were still living within the ruins of the city, they hid at the sound of the passing army. Fires were still burning, even in the heart of the city, a walled off area just as destroyed at the rest of the city. The enemy had been relentless and made sure not a single part was missed and those that were seeking refuge behind battered walls did not have time.  
  
“Taika.” She turned, her footfall stilling. The teenage boy joined her, weapon in hand. “Are you sure about this? Can we really do this?”  
  
Taika started again. “I don’t know. But we don’t have other choices.” She glanced at him as he fell into step beside her. “You don’t have to do this with me, Ove.”  
  
Ove gave her a smile. “Yes, I do.” Rushed footfall drew them to a stop, their gazes going back the way they had come. Another teenager was approaching, their red hair bobbing around them as they came to a stop beside the pair. “We both do,” Ove continued. “This is our kingdom as well. We’re not about to let you do this alone.”  
  
The red haired teen grinned. “Not in any lifetime,” they agreed.  
  
Taika offered them a tight smile. “We will most likely die.”  
  
The red haired teen shrugged. “We’re gonna die anyways. Might as well try.”  
  
“Please Taika.” She looked at Ove. “Let us help.”  
  
She sighed. “Fine. But stay close.”  
  
Taika took the lead, weaving her way between knights and civilians, between the tired and the injured. This was their last stand, their last fight, and a lot of hope was resting on one teenager’s shoulders.  
  
The archway leading into the heart of the city loomed over them as they passed underneath it with the knights that were making a last stand with them. The knights spread out to either side as Taika continued straight ahead, stopping several hundred feet before the archway. Ove settled behind her right shoulder, the red haired teen behind her left. Before them, emerging from the smoke and flames, was the invading army.  
  
Taika settled the book in her left hand and allowed it to fall open. She barely glanced at the page as the army came to a sudden halt. The silence that followed was deafening.  
  
A man on a horse wearing golden armor stopped a short distance before the army, facing Taika. “Surrender now or be wiped out!” the man shouted, his voice cold and lifeless. “Your kingdom has fallen!”  
  
“As long as we stand, our kingdom survives!” Taika shouted back, her right hand tightening around her tool.  
  
The man arched an eyebrow and gestured. A shot lobbed itself through the red haired teen’s shoulder and the teen grunted, curling around the wound.  
  
“Bai!” Ove exclaimed, taking a step towards them.  
  
Bai threw up a hand, shaking their head. “I’m fine.” They straightened though their back was hunched and stepped closer to Taika. “Taika.” The army before them surged forward with a battle cry. “Now.”  
  
Taika took a step forward as the book in her hand started to glow. Words fell from her lips that were not of the common tongue, not of any tongue that existed in that world still.  
  
A rumble rolled through the earth as the center of the city began to glow behind the final stand.


	7. Halsey - Control

They relished the feeling of the reset, enjoying the knowledge that no one save for two souls knew what they were doing. But a part of them was getting tired.

Bored.

There was nothing for them to do. No matter how many times they went through the actions, no matter how many times they did something “different” with the limited choices presented to them, there were only three results and none of them – none of them – set them free.

They watched as their weapon slid through the next target, not understanding. They had done this so many times and so few ever truly fought them. Even fighting one of the two that had knowledge of the resets had become predictable.

Their hand stilled. Had they been at this that long? Long enough that they knew each and every move of that final battle, of every battle?

They brought their weapon down with a sneer, finishing off the target. Pathetic. Wiping themselves off, they started towards the next target. Fine then. If nothing was going to change, they were going to make it change.

They went through the motions, ignoring the words spoken to them. They found their hands and clothing covered in the remains of their targets like times before but it did nothing. There was no disgust, no remorse. Not even when they stood before the one that remembered, the one that was the Judge.

As per the norm, the Judge started talking but they had heard it so many times they could quote him. So, instead, they attacked.

There was a jerking sensation, accompanied by the feeling of being torn apart. They gasped for breath, finding that they were on their back staring at the ceiling in the hall, golden light still pouring in. They got up with a grunt, flinching from the pain that remained. Across the hall, the Judge was standing, eyesockets black holes.

“what did you do, kid?” he asked, his voice gravelly. “what was that?”

They smirked. Aw, so they changed it. They attempted to attack again before the Judge could speak again.

It happened again.

They didn’t hesitate, just got up and threw their body at the Judge still standing there, hands in the pockets of his jacket and eyesockets blank, black holes.

Again and again the event occurred. They screamed in frustration, gaining a reaction from the Judge. He took half a step back.

They turned, glaring at him. He didn’t react. They attacked. The event happened again. They slammed their weapon into the floor, cracking the stone. They were not going to be controlled by this new limit. They were not going to let this occur. Turning with eyes blazing red, they readied their weapon and attacked the Judge.


	8. “Animal” By Neon Trees

She grabbed his arm and yanked back, preventing him from being ran over by a car. She raised her fist at the driver that had honked at them and shouted, “We have the right of way, asshole!”

“Rose,” he chuckled, fixing his glasses as he started walking again. She fell into step beside him, her hand falling from his arm. “Calm down. They didn’t hit me.”

She gave him a flat look. “I don’t care. We had the right of way in the crosswalk. It that impatient little fu-”

“Rose,” he tried again, his voice tighter. She looked to him, defensive. His expression belayed the edge in his voice, though. He gave her a soft smile. “Drop it.”

She sighed, looking away. “Fine.”

He grinned at her, settling their schoolbags on his shoulder. “Thanks, Rose.”

She relaxed, smiling in return. They walked in silence for some time, just enjoying each other’s company and the scenery. She glanced towards him, her thoughts curious. “Hey, about last night…”

His face darken, suddenly defensive. “Don’t worry about it. It won’t happen again.”

She frowned and grabbed his shoulder. “What? Why?”

He looked at her, almost horrified. “What do you mean why? I forced myself upon you in an inebriated state. I was in no place to have done that with you and you should not have been put into that situation.”

“You weren’t drunk.”

His expression turned flat. “Yes I was.”

“No, you weren’t,” she countered sharply. “And I asked. You agreed.”

He tried to deny it. “But I cannot hold my liquor like you can. And it was just one night. That doesn’t mean-”

She grabbed him by his tie and pulled him to her, kissing him. He bristled out of shock before he buried his free hand in her hair, kissing her back. When they separate, she huffed out a laugh, teasing, “Dork.”

He smiled at her. “I’m your dork, though.”

“Always,” she agreed readily, beaming. Her expression calmed a bit. “Now, will you let me ask you to be my boyfriend or are you going to bounce around that too?”

He laughed. “No. I’ll be your boyfriend.”

“Good.” She linked their arms and started walking again. He fell into step beside his childhood friend, now girlfriend, with a soft smile. “Because I really don’t want a different dork.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

They didn’t see the truck.

He jerked awake with a gasp, scrambling into a sitting position as he tried to breathe, his body shaking and tears streaming down his face. He pressed the heel of his hand into his eyes, trying to rid himself of the memory. It had been years.

He moved to the edge of the bed and he heaved himself into his wheelchair. He drowned a glass of water at the bathroom sink as soft footfall came up behind him. An arm wrapped around his shoulders and he met their gaze in the mirror. Even after all this time, he could not let Rose go.


	9. Bloody Mary for the fairy.

It was said that all myths and legends start out as truths. Not all keep their connection to where they start. Bloody Mary is no different.

There are so many different renditions, so many different experiences, that many don’t think that it is more than a child’s game played to scare each other.

They would be wrong.

The truth is, Mary had been a young girl, not the youngest but also not the oldest out of her seven siblings. But she did live in a family that believed in fantasy and it is said that Mary was sacrificed to bring in the blessing of the fae. Or, more specifically, a fairy. No one knows if it worked or not. Rumor has it that the reason she’s called Bloody Mary is due to the fairy gifting Mary with a brief moment of life at the cost of her mind and Mary killed her entire family before taking herself out. They say if the ritual is properly done, you can still hear the girl’s ungodly laughter ringing through the wind to this day.


	10. dialogue between a protagonist and their antagonist

He jerked back but there was no where to go. The sword in his leg had him pinned to the floor but the reaction happened all the same. He couldn’t move, couldn’t get away when his body screamed at him to run. He watched the other straighten, their gaze hard. “Tell me,” they panted, glaring at him. “Tell me!”

He bared his teeth. “I have told you, time and time aga-”

“Why did you kill my sister?”

Aw, that question. He relaxed a bit, trying not to agitate the wound in his leg. If he was as intelligent as he boasted, his artery had been nicked and it was only a matter of time before he bled out. He had probably 4 minutes, as long as the blade didn’t move. If it was removed, he was gone in a matter of seconds. “I didn’t kill your sister-”

“You attacked my home!” they screamed at him, grabbing him by the front of his drenched shirt and shaking him. He winced, the wound in his leg getting worse. He was out of time.

“A casualty of war,” he ground out, glaring at his assailant. “If I could have helped it, I would not have touched your home.” The surprise and disbelief was a nice change of pace. He fought to keep himself centered. He was already losing too much blood too quickly. “Your home, your town was a very prosperous location, fertile land, grand artisans. I was unable to meet that battle head on before it reached the town borders.”

“You…..tried to stop it?”

He chuckled, closing his eyes. He found it hard to open them again. “I tried to keep this damn war from even starting.”

“I don’t…”

He smiled softly, placing his hand over the one still fisted in his shirt. “Remember that there are always two sides of the same story. I am not who I’ve been made out to be.”

He missed the shock that crossed the other’s face as he passed out and the sudden concern that came after it.


	11. “Is it true, that up on that hill you can still feel the ocean breeze?”

“Is it true, that up on that hill you can still feel the ocean breeze?”

He looked up from the book he was reading, confused until his mind processed the question. He smiled gently, putting the antique aside with the same amount of care a mother would her child. “No,” he offered with a pleasant smile, standing. “We are too far inland to get those kinds of winds anymore.” The youth that had asked the question slumped, looking almost defeated. His pleasant smile fell away for a concerned frown. “Why do you ask?”

The youth hesitated and he waited patiently for them to speak. They always did, once they found the right words for it.

“I just figured that I had experienced it, is all.”

Aw, so that’s what was troubling the youth. His smile returning, he sat down by the youth, clothing billowing around him till it settled against the floor and his frame. “I do not feel as you do, child,” he started. Brown eyes looked up at him, wary but curious. “I never will. But I have been around long enough to get a glimpse into the human mind and how it works, how statements such as what you have stated are accurate and not.”

He placed a gloved hand on the youth’s head without looking at them. The youth dipped under the contact but did not pull away. “Long ago, when the lands began shifting and changing towards what they are now, the ocean had appeared to recede. Planetary crust is not meant to move as rapidly as it had, thus why we have the land formations we do. But, at the beginning, while the planet’s plates moving as they were was still very new and not well understood, there was a fear of losing everything. To sooth that fear, many stated that they could still feel the ocean breeze on top of that hill. It was merely nostalgic hoping, a lack of accuracy.” He looked down at the youth, a weak smile on his face. “But it helped.

"The thing is, in all technicality, every breeze you feel is an ocean breeze, as well as a mountain breeze, a forest breeze, and a desert breeze. The air on the planet is all in the same even with the heating and cooling of the atmosphere and the texture of the planet’s surface which cause the winds we feel.” He got to his feet, his joints creaking in a way that warned him to take care of himself soon otherwise he was not going to be able to move for much longer. “So, if you really want to be technical about it….” he gave the youth a smile, “you did indeed experience an ocean breeze.”

The beaming look from the youth was worth it all.


	12. “There is no such thing as destiny.”

“There’s no such thing as destiny.”

Her hand stilled mid spell, her brain belatedly registering the comment. A laugh burst out of her and she slapped her hand over her mouth as she dispersed the magic she had been gathering, trying desperately to swallow the laughter that was coming out without her permission. The grey gaze of her blonde companion was sharp, defensive. “What are you laughing at?” he demanded. “There isn’t!”

She leaned on the table, trying desperately to not fall onto the floor from laughing so hard. It wasn’t working very well and she ended up kneeling beside the table anyways. By the time the laughter gave way to giggles, she was crying and her sides hurt. She rubbed at her cheeks, grinning at the boy beside her. He hardened his glare. “Sorry, sorry,” she urged, attempting to get back up. “But that’s a ridiculous statement.”

“No it’s not,” he chided, though he uncrossed his arms and helped her back up. “There’s no such thing as destiny.”

Her smile grew endearing. “Then why does Fate exist?”

“He’s an anomaly.”

She smacked her hand over her mouth again as another bout of laughter welled up inside her. She could feel Fate grumbling about being called an anomaly but there was amusement in his disgruntled tone. She grinned on his behalf and he mentally smacked her. She wasn’t even fazed. “He’s Fate.”

Her blonde companion turned and enacted the spell they had been practicing flawlessly. “He’s a part of a sentient entity that’s playing God.”

“Fate is keeping us all on our destinies.”

Her companion’s hand stilled in the air and a distant and almost hopeless look crossing his face. She felt the humor of the situation fall away as quickly as it had appeared and she turned away, looking down at the matchsticks they were turning into needles. She picked a match up and lit it. It crackled to life before settling into a simple flame. She rotated the match this way and that as she allowed magic to keep the flame at the tip of the match without going out. She knew that her companion’s gaze was on the flame as well.

“Many people question fate and destiny,” she started out, her voice soft in the empty room. “Many question the existence of a god or several gods or whether there is something out there guiding us and they have a right to do so. For me, fate and destiny exist. It has to. Because if it doesn’t,” the flame was blown out, “then I am nothing more than a broken mind trying to piece together two separate personalities and an overactive imagination.”

She put down the spent match and looked at her companion, her expression serious. “I don’t mind if you don’t believe in destiny, Draco. I really don’t. But, for me, I have to believe that there is already a path we’re meant to walk, even if we stray from it or if it changes as we change and grow.” She turned away. “I have to believe that Fate is not just my creation, that what I see isn’t made up. Otherwise, I might go crazy.” She looked over at him. “And this world would be doomed.”

He swallowed heavily, his hand a tight fist around his wand. “Ok,” he said, giving a slight nod. “Destiny exists.” He touched her arm, offering a tight, soft smile. “And you’re not crazy, Ray. You’ll never be crazy.”

She smiled gently at him. “I hope you’re right, Draco.” She looked back down at the matches. “I hope you’re right.”


	13. Well, THAT certainly wasn’t supposed to happen!

The smoke and dust billowed out around them and they were all coughing because of it as a roar filled the air.

“Whelp,” she commented, grinning around her coughs. “That wasn’t suppose to happen.”

“How the hell is that a happy statement,” he snapped, trying to clear his lungs quickly. “You were supposed to banish the damn thing, not turn it into a dragon!”

She shrugged, still grinning. “I like dragons.”

A hand clasped her shoulder and she looked up. “Thank you for trying, Belinda. Let us take it from here.”

The white haired figure stepped passed, their long hair swaying in its ponytail. Belinda watched them and another walk towards the dragon, her gaze going to the blond beside her. “Sisu?”

He gave her a hard look even as it turned fond. “Still not pleased about the damn thing being a dragon now.”

She grinned at him. “I know. Should we help the leaders?”

There was a burst of magic somewhere in the smoke they couldn’t see. Sisu shook his head. “No. We’re better off not interfering.”

A body flew at them and Sisu grabbed Belinda, dragging her to the side. It flew past them and hit something beyond their sight. “We need to clear this smoke and dust,” Sisu grumbled, standing.

“I can do that!” Belinda exclaimed, grabbing for her magic tomb. Sisu’s hand snatched at her wrist, holding it tight. He glared at her. “You have already done enough.”

She grinned at him. “Then you do it,” she challenged.

He gave her a flat look but complied. Belinda watched as his gaze became unfocused as he turned his focus towards his task. She waited with bated breath, looking for it. The first sign was minute, small, but she saw it. She grinned as the magic suddenly became visible around Sisu before expanding rabidly, engulfing the area. Suddenly, the wind kicked up and the field was cleared.

Belinda looked around, frowning. “Sisu, where are we?”

He sagged against her, grumbling, “Great. Now it’s my turn to say that wasn’t suppose to happen.”

Belinda beamed at him. “See? I’m not the only one that messes up.”

“Shut up, Bella,” he chastised, though his exhaustion bled into his words as he tried to stand without her aid. “Come on. We have a long way to walk.”

She pulled one of his arms around her shoulders and gave a cheeky grin. “Want me to turn something into a dragon?”

He glared at her. “No.”


	14. “It took us three days before we started seeing shapes in the fog.”

The sun was out but it wouldn’t burn off the thick fog. The clouds had been overhead longer than the fog had and he didn’t expect that to change. His footfall was soft in among the trees as he made his way through the forest, his gaze sweeping the fog.  
  
 _“They say it just appeared one day.”_  
  
He stopped, looking back. Three others were walking behind him, each carrying a child on their back. The one behind him met his gaze and she nodded. He returned it, looking to the other two. They nodded as well. Turning forward again, he started walking.  
  
 _“People started vanishing without a sign.”_  
  
He picked up his pace.  
  
 _“It took us three days before we started seeing shapes in the fog.”_  
  
The trees were whipping passed him as he dodged one and then another with relative ease. The bonus to being what he was.  
  
 _“That’s when the bodies started showing up.”_  
  
There was a snap to their left and he dug his heels into the dirt, scraping to a stop. The other three came to a stop around him, all of them looking towards the source of the sound.  
  
 _“Someone said that the fog was driving people to murder.”_  
  
All they saw was the forest.  
  
 _“I believe them.”_  
  
And the fog.  
  
 _“I’m worried that…..”_  
  
He turned to continue on but out of the corner of his eye, he saw a black mass and he whipped around.  
  
 _“I’m losing my mind, too.”_  
  
There was nothing there.  
  
 _“There’s no way out.”_  
  
He jumped at the touch to his arm and looked to the girl that had been following him. She wasn’t looking at him.  
  
 _“I keep seeing the shapes in the fog.”_  
  
He turned slowly.  
  
 _“They keep speaking to me.”_  
  
He felt himself instinctively bristle.  
  
 _“Keep calling my name.”_  
  
He couldn’t move.  
  
 _“They won’t leave me alone.”_  
  
Couldn’t breathe.  
  
 _“And no one else believes me.”_  
  
The masses in the fog stared at them.  
  
 _“They don’t understand how dangerous these things are.”_  
  
He moved to reach for the girl beside him.  
  
 _“That once you enter the fog….”_  
  
The masses were upon them before his hand reached her.  
  
 _“You’re dead.”_


	15. hasley || gasoline

Watching | Confused | Accident  
---|---|---  
Always watching | Not understanding | Never meant to speak to each other  
Never talking | Something strange? | Never meant to interact  
Just observed | Something wrong? | Something wrong  
|  |   
Understanding | Trapped | Smoke  
Her questions | He gave her a moment | They're burning  
Her obsession | She took more | He can smell the gasoline  
|  |   
|  |   
Heat | Noise | Wind  
She's laughing with glee | He begins to understand | Her remains  
|  |   
|  |   
|  |   
Smile | Damaged | Changed


	16. Kehlani - Gangsta

He spat blood to the ground as he circled the groaning figure on the ground. The crowd held its breath, its gaze either on the prone figure or the stalker. He came to a stop at their head, his expression murderous.

“Stay down,” he growled, and the figure flinched.

He turned and stepped towards the ring of onlookers. There was a shout and a commotion behind him and he turned in time to see the fist coming at his face. It collided and snapped his head sideways. He took a step sideways to counter, absorbing the blow with ease. He recoiled, countering with an uppercut to the attacker’s gut. They choked as he fisted their shirt and yanked hard sideways. There was a crack as they hit the ground. He brought his foot down on their knee and their scream joined the second crack.

He glared at the others, hands relaxed at his side. “Any others?” he challenged, his voice calm but dark. The crowd took a collective step back. He turned around again and continued the way he had gone. The crowd parted as quickly as it could, people stumbling over their own feet.

He pushed the door open and made sure it closed completely behind him before he continued on.

He entered the room, a bloody mess and head held high. The other capo looked to him but his gaze was for the underboss. “Situation’s been handled.” The underboss nodded without looking up. “Is the Don available? He wanted an update.”

The underboss gestured towards a side door. He crossed the room but stilled with a hand on the handle as the underboss commented, “He’s not in a good mood.”

A rueful smile crossed his face. “Neither am I.”

He opened the door and made sure it closed behind him before making his way down the hallway.

He knocked on the thick door. A muffled voice permitted him entrance and he stepped in, closing the door behind him. The Don was situated behind a large oak desk, the consigliere sitting in one of the chairs facing the Don. He took a step forward and dipped his head. “Situation is handled.”

The Don arched an eyebrow. “And you thought it would be prudent to appear before me in such a shape.”

A tight smile curled his lips. “He knows.” The man tensed. “He’s going to start a war.”

“He wouldn’t dare.”

He shrugged. “We all know the consequences of going war, but that’s beside the point. He’s aiming to hit you and yours.”

The Don ran a hand over his face. He could see from where he stood the hand was trembling. “Can you take him out?”

His expression tightened as he thought it over, running plans and information as quickly as he could. “Possibly.” The Don looked to him. “You know my in. A situation like that–”

“No,” the Don spoke vehemently, slamming his hand on the desk. “I will not condone such an act on that family.” His expression softened. “I will not do that to you.”

He found himself relaxing. “I’ll talk to him, see what he thinks.”

“He the one that gave you this information?”

He nodded. “He doesn’t want this war. He believes his Grandfather has officially lost it. His father and uncles won’t stand up to the geezer.”

The Don chuckled. “Rightfully so. That ‘geezer’ is the Don of that family for a reason. He’s the reason why that family has the reputation that it does.” The Don narrowed his eyes. “How much time do we have?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know. He was trying to find that out without giving himself away.”

“He still has familiar support?”

He nodded. “The underboss has no qualms with our relationship, neither do some of the capo. But his father doesn’t know.”

“Find out. I do not want to be surprised.”

He dipped his head in acknowledgement before turning and exiting the room. He pulled out his phone and shot off a quick text as he made his way out of the building. He nodded towards the underboss on his way out. The underboss returned it.

The drive was quick. He pulled into the parking spot, smiling gently at the sight of the car next to his. He climbed out and made his way to the apartment, opening the door as excitement rolled through him.

It quickly turned to ice in his veins.

There, standing in his apartment, was his lover. But he wasn’t alone. The Don of his family was sitting on his couch, the underboss beside him. His lover looked ashamed as a stranger that had been behind the door closed it and patted him down. His gaze was only for his lover.

“He did nothing wrong,” the underboss spoke as the stranger relieved him of his concealed weapons. “He did something rather brave, actually.”

He frowned at his lover but he had yet to gain the other’s gaze.

The stranger grabbed his arm.

It was instinct as he dragged his foot about to shift his stance as his hands wrapped around the man’s arm. He jerked them sideways, leaving a sizable dent in the wall. He drove his knee into the man’s gut before socking him in the temple, knocking him out.

“Steve!” His lover was on him, dragging him away from the stranger. Slender hands were suddenly cupping his cheeks, forcing his gaze away. Brown eyes were sharp, alarmed, but oh so familiar and he relaxed as he pinned the man’s hands to his cheeks.

The Don rose, stating, “I want to end this feud but I am unable to do it on my own.”

He pulled his lover to his chest as he looked to the Don, curious.

“I have a job for you.”

He tensed up, not sure he was going to like this.

“I need you to cut my strings.”

He blinked.

“I don’t understand.”

The Don gave him a flat look.

“I am being controlled.”


	17. Fake It - Bastille

“I am being controlled.”

White hot anger rushed through him, blending dangerously with his confusion. He countered angrily, “But you’re the Don of one of the largest, most fears families in this city. You put the Stark family name on the fucking map! How can you be–”

“Rogers,” the underboss cut in, sounding tired. “Calm down and listen.”

He closed his mouth. The Don sat down. His lover gently pulled him towards the loveseat. He sat down with an arm still around his lover. The Don sighed, asking, “How did you end up in the Fury family, Rogers?”

“Unfortunate circumstances.”

A smile to pull at the Don’s face and his lover dipped his head to hide his laughter. He felt a smile creep onto his own face.

“And where do you sit in the Fury family?” the Don inquired, amused.

He was pretty sure these questions were for his benefit only. “I’m on level with the other capo.”

The Don nodded. “And how many of those capo are actually related to the Don.”

His brow scrunched in thought. “None that I’m aware of.”

Again, the Don nodded. “And the underboss?”

He shook his head no, certain.

“The Fury family is powerful and well known for being a family that isn’t of blood. Most of the other old families have tried sabotaging the Fury family because it goes against everything we set up but the family you’re a part of is strong and fought back, matching pace with the greats of us. But the one thing that is rumored is that there is no way to control the Don of the Fury family. Even holding family at ransom will bode in nothing more than one’s death.”

He chuckled, offering, “Not sure about the death part but it’s pretty accurate. We each can hold our own and fight back. We’ve lost a few capo that way but we each know the risks.” His grip tightened around his lover. “We’re willing to do everything in our power to not allow someone the upper hand on the Fury family. Even if that means we take our own life.”

The Don nodded, seeming pleased with the information. “Unfortunately, the Stark family is not set up that way. We are part of the old ways and we protect those that are most precious to us.”

He shook his head. “Then how did they get a hand on your strings?”

The Don’s lips quirked towards a smirk. The Don seemed pleased with the returned metaphor. “They’ve targeted your lover, my Grandson, who is slated to be the next Don.”

He tensed, looking down at his lover in concern. Brown eyes were watching him but there was no shame, no hit of anything, actually. He looked back at the Don. “What do you want me to do? Cutting strings is rather vague.”

“I need you to take Tony and protect him. Get him away from all this chaos. Then, arrange a meeting for me with your Don. It will put you both in more danger but he has the recourses and people to truly cut my strings.” The Don gave a rather sad look even as he smiled. “It’s time this ridiculous feud ended anyways. We would benefit far more by working together than against each other.”

He nodded, standing. His lover stood with him. He opened his mouth to reply.

He coughed, tasting metallic, earth, and acrid smoke on the back of his throat. His ears were ringing and his body felt like it was on fire but, as he moved, he realized he was littered in glass, shards falling from him as he got up. He looked up, frowning.

What had happened? And where was he? Last he remembered was talking with the head of the Stark family but this didn’t look like his apartment.

“Tony?” he shouted, choking on the smoke still hanging in the air. “Tony!”

He turned. He could make out the remains of his own car but that told him little. He reached into the back of his pants and found his gun still in its holster. He pulled it out and found it undamaged and the safety still engaged. He checked the magazine – it was full – before flicking the safety off. He slowly made his way down the sidewalk.

The place was a wreck, like someone had dropped a bomb on the place. But it was a town he didn’t recognize in an area of land he was unfamiliar with. There were mountains so close that he was certain the town was in a mountain valley. He ends his way on, not finding anyone. He wasn’t even sure of his lover was there with him but, without his memory–

There was a noise behind him and he whipped around, his gun coming up. He found his lover pulling himself out of a shop. He belted the gun and took off running, quickly aiding the other out of the shop remains. “Thank heaven,” he breathed, running his hands through his lover’s hair. “You ok?”

The lithe man nodded, reaching out and gripping the front of his shirt for a semblance of stability. He pinned the hand to his chest with his own hand. “Yeah, I’m fine,” his lover uttered. “Sprained ankle but I’m not dead.”

He pressed a careful kiss to his lover’s lips, asking, “Do you remember what happened?”

He watched his lover’s face scrunch up in a way that had him smiling fondly. He always loved watching his lover think. “Last thing I remember is us standing up before my Grandfather. You were going to make a comment about protecting me and arranging a meeting between the Dons.”

He nodded. “That’s the last I remember as well.” He glanced about the town, pulling his lover to him. “We’d best get moving. Whatever happened here, I don’t want to be caught when it happens again.”

His lover nodded, holding tight to him. “How much survival knowledge to you know?”

“Enough.”


	18. Come Little Children by Kate Covington

He reached out, grasping for the white gloved hand proffered to him. The black and white mask – always grinning, always staring – dipped with the motion of pulling him up and out.  
  
“Ready to go?” a female voice asked from behind the mask, the grin on the mask clear in the words.  
  
He glanced back, back at a life he was never meant to live. He nodded and followed the figure.  
  


……………………………… .:~@~:. ………………………………

  
She shuddered, feeling his presence before he ever got the chance to announce himself. She turned, looking back at the black and white mask forever grinning at her. He tipped his head to the side and she got the distinct feeling he was grinning at her. “Ready?”  
  
She made a face. “I never had a choice.”  
  
He hummed, waiting. She glanced back before stepping towards him, taking his proffered white gloved hand.  
  


……………………………… .:~@~:. ………………………………

  
The cigarette smoke wafted towards him as he sat at the bar milking his bottle. The chair beside him creaked as the figure settled into it, a phantom of his mind. “This is almost over,” a voice spoke, neither male nor female but solid, sure, and soft only for him to hear.  
  
He chuckled dryly, bringing the bottle up as his perpetual smile grew sharp. “No, really? Could have sworn this charade was going to last forever.”  
  
The figure beside him chuckled and he glanced over to watch as the figure pushed up the black and white mask – frozen in a grin as his own face was – and took a puff of a cigarette. The smoke curled around them as the world darkened. “Just hand in there.” The figure placed a white gloved hand on his shoulder. “You’ll make it out of this. Just give it time.”  
  
He didn’t believe them.  
  


……………………………… .:~@~:. ………………………………

  
She ripped the mask off her face and threw it aside, disgusted as a corporeal form appeared beside her, dressed as she was but still wearing the blasted mask – black and white with its frozen grin. The other tipped his head to the side and she could feel his frown. “There’s no need for that.”  
  
“No need!” she bit back, rounding on him. “No need? Did you not just witness the same thing I did!?”  
  
He brought his hands, the white gloves bright in the low light. “I did. But that does not warrant this behavior.”  
  
She turned from him, yanking at the white gloves on her hands. “Doesn’t matter. I’m not doing this anymore.”  
  
His disapproving glare was felt even through the mask. “Too bad. You don’t have a choice.”  
  


……………………………… .:~@~:. ………………………………

  
He watched as the younger studied the black and white mask in their hands – forever grinning, forever metaphorical shackles – as he sat beside them, his fingers dressed in white gloves intertwined between his knees. “Henry?”  
  
The young man looked up at him, brown eyes belaying the younger’s confusion even as the sharp mind worked to understand. “So, you’re Fate?”  
  
He shrugged, looking down at his gloved hands. “More of a branch of Fate, a small part of Fate.” He looked sideways at the mask. “I have the abilities of Fate but Fate cannot be housed completely inside a human body. So, instead, Fate is in every person, allowing Fate to maintain guidance for any and every timeline possible. It allows Fate to see everything and understand it all.”  
  
“And this mask?”  
  
He reached over and pulled it from the younger’s soft grasp. “A symbol of Fate. This mask is known across timelines, across dimensions, into universes we will never understand.”  
  
He gave a sharp grin. The mask cracked in his grip. “Fate is Everywhere, forever present.”


	19. Defective

“You doing ok?”  
  
He looked up, startled by the young man standing before him. He offered a carefree smile, assuring, “Yeah, why?”  
  
“You look sad.”  
  
His smile faltered but he prayed the other didn’t notice. He forced it bigger. “Ah, just tired. I had a long day.”  
  
The other before him took the bait and laughed. “Haven’t we all?”  
  
The grin he had plastered on his face returned to the carefree smile, but he could feel how fake it was. A part of him desperately hoped the other couldn’t see the cracks in his mask. A much larger part was very certain the young man before him could not. “You doing anything after this?” he asked, changing topics.  
  
The other lit up, happily launching into the plans for that evening. He listened attentively as he always did, conversing easily with this partial stranger before him. But the compression in his chest would not ease up.  
  
“You gonna come?”  
  
He chuckled. “Of course! Why wouldn’t I?”  
  
_Because nobody cares. People will be happy to see you but they won’t care if you stay._  
  
He swallowed against the thoughts, his focus on the one before him faltering as the compression in his chest expanded to include his gut. He turned his forced smile into a grin. “I can’t wait till this evening.”  
  
Someone called the other’s name and they dipped out. He remained sitting there, anxiety taking his appetite away. He looked down at his meal.  
  
_No point in going. You’re just a waste of space. No matter what they say, you’re not important. You have no right to be there._  
  
He bit into the rest of his sandwich.  
  
_Really, you’re nothing more than a nuisance._  
  
He swallowed thickly and shoved the last bite into his mouth, slipping off the low wall he had been sitting on.  
  
_You’re worthless._  
  
He entered the common space and greeted those that greeted him. He felt like he was floundering. He didn’t know what to do.  
  
_You’re a burden._  
  
He slipped out, trying desperately to not panic.  
  
_Who would want anything to do with you?_  
  
He gritted his teeth as he tried to regain his mask.  
  
_After all…_  
  
He closed his eyes, fighting to keep his breath normal.  
  
_You’re defective._  
  
He forced his eyes opened, desperately shoving the thought away.  
  
_Broken._


	20. Image Prompt 2

Her whole body bobbed with the music blaring from the headphones hanging around her neck as she reloaded. She traded it to the young man beside her for the gun he was already using. He was bobbing right along with her.  
  
“Reload!” came the call from an older young man several windows away on the same wall. She caught the gun tossed at her and she grabbed up an equivalent already loaded and tossed it in return. She grinned as his shots went off in time with the music. She shoved another magazine into place into three more weapons before picking up a rocket launcher, leaning backwards through the window, aiming, and letting it fly.  
  
The stream of exhaust curled about before coming down and she grinned at the explosion that threw up bodies. She slid back into the building and reloaded.  
  
Without saying a word, she passed off a new gun to the one beside her, falling into routine as the song repeated.  
  
“Nothing new?” the one beside her teased, taking four out without trying.  
  
She gave a bark of a laugh. “Aw, come on! It fits the mood!”  
  
“In Britain?” the one farther down challenged, though it was clear he was not complaining.  
  
She shrugged, kicking over another weapon to him. He grabbed it without looking, pocketing it. “You have to admit, it’s got the best beat.”  
  
He chuckled. “Just change it over when they come in.”  
  
She gave a vicious grin as she flicked the safety off, turned, and aimed. “Absolutely.”  
  
She took out seven in rapid succession.  
  
The minutes passed and the waves lulled between being very heavy and lax. There was clamor from above and they were joined by four more people, all of who came through the glassless windows.  
  
“They’re on their way,” the only woman of the four stated, her voice hard, her gaze even harder. She glared at the headphones. “Turn that bullshit off.”  
  
She couldn’t help the grin she gave the leader, pulling out the music player tucked into a pocket. “Sorry, Boss, but ain’t happening.”  
  
She flicked through music and changed songs as the two young men were replaced and they came to her, gathering the weapons. They clipped her in as she hauled gathered weapons onto her back, and she tested the rope and then her harness before slipping out the window. Allowing the rope and harness to take her weight, she took out four more targets as the young men joined her on the outside, both just as laden down with weapons as she was. The one that had been at the far window smirked. “Much better music choice.”  
  
She beamed at him as the ropes jerked them skywards.  
  
She passed the roofline first, flying up past the roof as the pull mechanism lost contact with her rope. She rolled in the air, the rope flying around, before she landed heavily on the roof. She shrugged off the weapons as the young men landed on either side of her. She unclipped herself as the woman operating the winch hurried over, shoving at her glasses. “Are you alright? The speed on the winch got stuck.”  
  
She grinned at her. “Of course.” She walked towards her male companions. “You’d best get to safety.”  
  
The woman shoved at her glasses again and nodded.  
  
She watched as the nerdy woman hurried off, cocking the gun in her hand before joining the two young men at the roof’s edge. She grinned at them both. “Ready boys?”  
  
The one that had been farthest from her shrugged but the one that had been beside her gave her a grin. A siren went off and their gazes went towards the horizon. Here came the airborne hoard.


	21. An Aubade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A poem about two lovers separating at dawn.

Forever  
---  
We had |  | Promised  
Parted |  | at the break of day  
knowing |  | We’d never see each other again  
|  | Ignorant | of the fate awaiting us  
|  | Watching the sun rise | beyond the cell bars  
|  | Metal gleaming | sharp  
|  |  |  | Swift  
|  |  |  | A silence heavy  
|  |  |  | Weight of shattered hearts  
|  |  |  | Echoes of yesterday  
|  | There was no one | crying  
|  | Nothing | beyond our shadows  
|  | As the crowd gathered | Outside  
Yesterday |  | there was hope  
There was |  | Love  
But |  | now there was only  
Death


	22. Can’t breathe.

She couldn’t breathe.

The smile that split her face, though, belayed the sensation of her stomach joining her heart in her throat as the rollercoaster pulled out of the dive. She let out a whoop, leaning with the rollercoaster as it banked this way and that, rolling completely over and going through loops. By the time the rollercoaster came to a jerking stop, adrenaline and thrill were pulsing through her.

“Bloody hell,” came the curse from beside her and she leaned forward against the harness, looking to her riding partner. He had a bewildered look on his face but there was the same thrill in his eyes as she was still experiencing. She grinned at him.

“Again?”

“No!” came a cry from behind them. They both laughed, though her partner’s laugh was more out of his bewilderment then true amusement at the cry. She leaned back, settling once more in her seat as she called back, “Didn’t care too much for that?”

“Don’t get me wrong, I love flying,” came the snappy reply. “But this was just brutal.”

She laughed again as another voice piped in behind her. “I thought is was bloody wicked!”

She grinned, though the other couldn’t see her. “Figured you would, Harry.”

The rollercoaster slid forward on the track, entering the terminal for unloading. The restraint raised itself as she released the buckle and hopped off, glancing first at her riding partner then moving to the two young men sitting behind her. The one that was directly behind her was fighting with his harness restraint. She walked over and promptly pushed down before pulling up, freeing the blonde from his trap. He pushed passed her, clearly eager to get off. The other boy, Harry, smiled at her but lagged, looking towards the back of the ride.

Four men were heading their way, conversing easily even after so many years of bitterness between two of them. It was clear that two of the four – and not the two that had so many years of bitterness between them – hadn’t really enjoyed the rollercoaster ride. She quickly cornered both men.

“Not your thing?” she questioned, already knowing the answer.

The blonde, clearly related to the young man she had freed, shook his head. “I will have to try it from the front, as you had suggested initially, and not listen to Severus when he says that the back is the best.”

He stepped passed her after the blonde boy. She looked to the remaining man, his scars unusually stark on his pale face. He gave her a weak smile and placed a hand on her head. “Sorry, Rachel. Just not my cup of tea.”

She covered his hand with hers, beaming regardless. “I’m glad you at least gave it a go.”

“Heck yeah we gave it a go!” One of the two remaining men wrapped an arm around the scarred man’s shoulders and, while the action looked as if it was rough, the scarred man wasn’t even phased and the concern on the other man’s face spoke that it hadn’t meant to be rough. “Do we need to get you anything or…”

She caught sight of Harry frowning in concern as she did the same thing. The remaining man – looking similar to the man currently touching the scarred man but with a hooked nose and a narrower face – stepped over to her riding partner, though his obsidian gaze was on the scarred man. “Nausea Remus, or something else entirely?”

Though spoken with a slight snide undertone, the words were of genuine concern and the scarred man – now named Remus – merely smiled gently. “I’ll be fine, Severus. Rollercoasters have never really been my thing.”

Rachel looked to her guardian, asking, “Should we start heading out?”

“Oh, no, I’ll be ok!” Remus assured as they all meandered to the exit. “You brought them along to show them the rides. Go have fun. I don’t mind sitting out.”

The man that still had his arm around Remus’s shoulder gave the other a small frown. “You sure, Remus?”

Remus nodded, giving the man a fond look. “I’m sure, Sirius. Go have fun. I’m sure Lucius and I can pass the time quite easily while you and the others ride more rides.”

“If you’re sure…”

Rachel bounded ahead as she came out of the exit path at last, grinning at the pair of blondes with equal sneers on their faces. She bound right up to them and clasped her hands behind her back. “Next one?” she asked happily.

The blonde young man narrowed his eyes at her. “Which one?”

She pointed at the building not far from where the duo was standing. “It’s like an arcade game. You shoot things with a laser gun and accumulate points. It’s great.”

“Sounds like something I would be ok on,” came a call from behind her.

She turned, beaming. “I hoped it would. It goes pretty slow, in comparison. Everyone should be fine on it.”

The remaining unnamed man nodded in approval. “Lead the way,” he urged, and Rachel grabbed a hand of both young men and dragged them away, the adults following at a more sedated pace.


	23. Pawnshop

The man brought his head up as the bell at the top of the front door rang. With a sigh, he pushed himself up and away from the work bench, glancing briefly at the closed circuit security monitor. A single person had entered the shop and he thankfully recognized them. Sadly, in these times, one could not be too careful.  
  
Stepping out from the back, he was standing behind the counter before the person caught sight of him. They approached, dressed in easily forgettable attire, with an easily forgettable face. The only reason why he recognized this person was because they visited his shop so often. They reached into what he supposed was a breast pocket as they approached.  
  
Once they reached the counter, they placed their closed hand fingers down on the counter before carefully placing whatever was in their palm upon the glass. They retracted their hand, revealing several bits of currency and an odd trinket, no bigger than what could comfortably rest in a closed palm. He cocked a tired smirk, picking the odd trinket up. “Need a new one already?”  
  
The figure shrugged. “Hard week.”  
  
The man pocketed the odd trinket, arching an eyebrow. He had forgotten how forgettable their voice was. Nothing about this person seemed to stick in his memory very well, did it? “I’ll say. These things are not meant to break so easily.”  
  
Forgettable lips twitched towards a smirk. “Hard week,” they repeated, though now there was amusement laced into their words. But, even then, they just sounded tired. Always tired. Funny how that was one of the few things he remembered about this person.  
  
He reached under the counter and grabbed a crate before placing it on top the glass. He leaned back a bit, looking over the assortment of odd trinkets all meant to do the same thing but slightly different in minor details. “Not sure why you keep coming back here for one if you have such hard weeks. These are all used and won’t last you quite as long as a new one.”  
  
The figure merely dug through the contents, though he didn’t understand why. There wasn’t really any need to. They all did the same thing.  
  
But, like always, the person found one they seemed to deem worthy over the others and tucked it into an inner pocket as he put the small crate away and collected the currency. He touched the one in his pocket as he watched the person turn, his curiosity – and his concern – nagging at him. “Why do you keep coming back for these if you just keep needing to replace them? Wouldn’t it be easier to just buy a new one?”  
  
The person stopped not far from the counter and turned back, their eyes piercing in a way that had him feel as if his soul was bare. He involuntarily shuddered. The person offered with ease, “This is the cheapest place to buy one. Besides,” the person touched wherever they had tucked the odd trinket, “they don’t make them how they used to.”  
  
“Oh?” the man inquired. “And how’s that?”  
  
The person smiled but it looked sad, yet fond, causing anxiety to quicken his heart. He wasn’t sure how to interpret that expression and he wasn’t sure he wanted to.  
  
“They used to be stronger.”  
  
The person left without another word, slipping out of the shop along with the man’s recollection of what the person looked like. He swallowed thickly, pulling the odd trinket out of his pocket to look at it worriedly. Stronger?  
  
He turned and entered the back area, sitting at his work bench and placing the odd trinket down on the work surface. He grabbed the nearest tools and started popping the thing open, though it took a bit of work. The outer case clattered against the work bench as he stared, dumbstruck, at the thing before him.  
  
With a shaking hand, he reached out careful fingers and gingerly brushed them over the exposed inner workings of the soul case. It was a mastery of mechanics and alchemy but, as of late, he had been getting a lot of them. He had thought it was because people no longer needed them. It would seem he was wrong; the newer cases were nothing but a hoax.  
  
The case had always protected a soul from sharp words and anxieties, keeping apathy and self loathing at bay with ease. He looked to his door, his heart feeling heavy. How many people had come through his door that he had forgotten? How many of them had been hoping for just one reason to be remembered? Cared about? Loved? How many of them had he just sold a new case to that would not make it through the next week because it failed?


	24. Sunshine

Influenced by:

_“You are my sunshine,”_  
  
The caverns echoed as she made her way through them, her breath short and her body aching. She pushed on as hard as she could, tripping in the dark with numb feet. The water that flowed through the caverns was ice but she had no time to avoid it. She needed to get out.  
  
_“My only sunshine.”_  
  
Tears pricked the back of her eyes and she ignored the tightness in her throat. It became a moot point as her foot caught and she let out a cry as she fell into the water. The freezing water stole her breath and panic swelled in her chest. She pushed against the floor.  
  
_“You make me happy”_  
  
She broke the surface with a gasping cough. Shaking from the cold and fear, she stumbled forward, searching for the rock wall. She found it and leaned against it, a sob escaping her as her body trembled.  
  
_“When skies are gray.”_  
  
She pushed away, moving on as quickly as she could. She was becoming numb, unable to feel anything now. She tripped again, but this time she kept her feet under her and she didn’t go under again.  
  
_“You’ll never know, dear,”_  
  
There was a sound from behind her and she tensed, listening. Eyes wide, she looked back. There was no light, nothing to illuminate what she had heard, but that didn’t matter.  
  
_“How much I love you.”_  
  
She was being followed.  
  
_“Please don’t take”_  
  
She moved farther into the caverns, following the wall as the water level slowly rose. Or maybe the floor was descending. She couldn’t tell.  
  
_“My sunshine away.”_  
  
She took a step but there was no ground to stand on.  
  
_“I’ll always love you”_  
  
Her head went under the water again and the freezing cold water stole at her breath again, coaxing panic into her chest. She swam against the current to where her other foot was still solid against the cavern floor. She pushed her head up over the surface again, gasping and coughing with lungs that felt like they were being compressed. She stood up fully and huddled against the wall.  
  
_“And make you happy,”_  
  
She looked towards the way she had come, not sure what to do. There was no telling what was ahead of her but she knew for sure what was behind her.  
  
_“Cus you are my sunshine,”_  
  
She looked towards the water before her, even though she was robbed of her sight with no light. Did she dare swim in the bitter cold, see if there is an end to the cavern and flow with the water to the way out?  
  
_“My only sunshine.”_  
  
But what if there wasn’t a way out?  
  
_“You make me happy”_  
  
The sounds were growing louder.  
  
_“When skies are gray.”_  
  
She was running out of time.  
  
_“You’ll never know, dear,”_  
  
With tears streaming down her cheeks, she sank into the water till her head was just barely above the surface. Setting her feet against the edge of what floor was left within her reach, she kicked off, swimming slowly and carefully in as straight of a line as she could manage.  
  
_“How much I love you.”_  
  
She swam for what felt like forever, her limbs numb from the freezing temperature of the water. She was getting tired but the sounds hadn’t died down. At one point, she rolled onto her back and just drifted, letting the water to take her wherever it wanted. She ended up bumping against a wall. She straightened in the water and felt along, finding that the ceiling was just barely brushing the top of her wet head. The cavern itself had closed in around her. She could touch both walls at the same time.  
  
_“Please don’t take”_  
  
There was a splash from where she had come from and she pressed up against the wall behind her, feeling solid rock against her heels. She was trapped.  
  
_“My sunshine away.”_  
  
She screamed when the amber eyes materialized before her.  
  
_“Please don’t take my sunshine away.”_


	25. Halloween

He watched his smoke tainted breath curl up towards the night sky, the smoke leaving his lungs illuminated by the street lamps around him. The sun had set barely an hour ago but there was still the sound of children laughing and adults talking as groups of people milled about the streets. One such group passed by him and he dropped his gaze long enough to nod towards the adults and wave at the kids, commenting and admiring the costumes each wore.  
  
Halloween; a major holiday shrouded in mystery and folklore. The majority of the children in costumes going from door to door saying “Trick or Treat!” probably didn’t know all that was behind the holiday. He scraped his cigarette against the stone wall. Heck, he’d bet that a good number of the adults didn’t either. Or, at least, know fully.  
  
He stood up from the low wall he had been perched on and started to make his way down the street. He made his way into a darker part of the neighborhood, the homes that were either empty due to whatever reason or the homes that just didn’t participate in the holiday. He pulled out his cigarette pack and lit another one. Pity.  
  
The smoke from his cigarette curled around him as he moved from home to home. Some had unknowingly protected themselves from his presence. It actually made him happy when that happened.  
  
He did not take pleasure in his job.  
  
He came to the first home that was occupied and not protected. He made a face in disgust. He entered the home and closed the door behind him, the door returning to its locked state. A drunk man was passed out on the couch, some movie playing on the TV screen. The place was a wreck but he ignored it.  
  
Ok, so he lied. There were some aspects of his job he took pride in. This was one of them.  
  
He made his way into the first bedroom, finding it void of life. He moved to the second bedroom, finding it surprisingly clean for a children’s room. Two pulses of life came from the closet and he turned his head. The shutter closet doors were closed but he knew they could see his form. He walked over, hearing the faintest of breaths hitching. He squatted before the closet, offering a tired smile the children probably couldn’t see. “It’s alright,” he assured. “I’m a friend. I’m going to take you trick or treating.”  
  
The only sound came from the living room, the TV still blaring its movie. He waited patiently, knowing what would happen. It always happened.  
  
Slowly, the closet doors opened. The two children looked horrible. He offered them each a hand. Their tiny hands closed around his fingers and he gently guided them out of the closet. He smiled down at them. “Ready to go?”  
  
The older of the two grabbed his cloak. “You really taking us trick or treating, Mister?”  
  
He nodded. “If you would like. We have time before we need to be anywhere else.”  
  
The older of the two narrowed their eyes, intelligent. “Where else are we going?”  
  
No wonder he hadn’t visited the pair beforehand. “There’s a party where a lot of kids like you are going to be at and you get to make all the friends you want.”  
  
“Really?” the younger asked, full of sudden, trepidatious hope.  
  
He nodded again. “But we have to play a game first.” The older’s eyes were upon him, trying to decipher his words. “It’s called the Quiet Game.” The older’s eyes flickered in understanding and the younger tensed against him. They understood. Good. “Once we step outside, the game ends, but you can’t make a noise till we get to the front step. Ready?”  
  
They nodded.  
  
He led the way.  
  
They had almost made it to the door when the drunk man woke up. The man blinked at him before realizing that he had the man’s two children in hand. He cursed under his breath as he pulled the children behind him, feeling them cling to his cloak. He faced the drunkard coming at him as he summoned his scythe with a vicious grin.


End file.
